Presenting: Perfection
by lege et lacrima
Summary: James fears he has strayed too far off the family path - so to get back on the right track, he's setting about making everyone personalised Christmas presents. A journey through memory. - JamesII/Teddy - Legs - For the LJ NextGen-Mas -


This is another fic from a fest over on LiveJournal. This time it was for **nextgen-mas** and I'm so glad I can finally post it - I had to wait for the reveal. I wrote this fairly hastily, mostly on the Eurostar between London and Paris, and it was a bit of an intense experience. But I've received some lovely and positive comments over on LJ, so I hope you guys like it! (Also let me know if you find any italics codes that I've left in... hope I've got them all, but you never know.)

* * *

><p>James was determined. He was completely, utterly, single-mindedly determined. He was so determined that sometimes he didn't know what to do with himself. This was one of those times. Now he was so very determined to be the perfect son that he was doing absolutely nothing to achieve this goal. What a fucking contradiction.<p>

Look at bloody Albus, Head Boy this year. And little Lily, Quidditch Captain already. The golden Potter children. And then James, the serial underachiever and good-for-nothing troublemaker. In and out of detention like a Muggle Jack-in-the-box. Bottom of his classes for seven consecutive years. It wasn't that he wasn't clever - his pranks begged to differ - but he just didn't try. All of his efforts went into planning the next big spectacle, looking good for the ladies and gents, and making people laugh at inappropriate moments in class.

And fuck, now he couldn't even get a job. His second year out of Hogwarts and still living off his parents. Pathetic. By now he ought to have a job and a flat of his own in London. The plan had always been to ditch the family - there were just so fucking _many_ of them, he couldn't keep up.

But it clearly hadn't worked out, had it? So what else could he do but redeem himself? James needed to be the perfect son. He needed to show his parents that he was better than the boy who'd caused a virtual conflagration of calamity on his first day at Hogwarts. He needed to ditch the moody teen and get back in with the Weasley set. He could become one of them again after years of ignoring them all. He _could_.

The question was - _how_?

It was coming up Christmas, and James's first idea had been to buy them all spectacular presents to make up for years of acting like a berk. The major flaw in this plan was that spectacular presents required spectacular amounts of money spent on them. Money that James did not have, because as we have established, James did not have a job. And asking his parents for a loan would be tantamount to asking Prof Longbottom for an extension on an essay.

It wasn't going to happen.

Then one day he had an idea. It was silly, but it might just work. He'd been talking to Teddy at the time it struck. James occasionally disappeared from the Potter residence for a few nights - his parents never asked, but usually he went to Teddy's. A flat in London, man. His _dream_.

Teddy'd been doing some spring cleaning and had unearthed an old photo album, and they'd been reminiscing, if you could call coming up with stupid captions for every variety of the "I'm saying something very important" look on Albus's face "reminiscing". James personally hated the word "reminiscing". It looked stupid in his handwriting, and it made life seem all sugary-sweet and happy, like a perfect rose-tinted past where everyone was smiling and happy. Yay. In his experience, that just wasn't how it worked.

At the back of James's mind had been this idea of perfect Christmas presents, and as they looked at all the old photos, he was struck by the idea that he could make a better photo album himself. Teddy's album, a gift no doubt from James's parents, was nominally perfect. Everyone was smiling and happy, waving at the camera, giving each other loving looks. But that wasn't accurate, was it? James could make a photo album of all the awkward moments, the frowns and the tears and the anger. For him, _that_ would be the perfect Christmas present - and better still, it'd be hand-made, winning him extra brownie points. It'd be a similar effect to Al's macaroni portraits of the family from years ago. Adults loved that handmade shit. Plus, they say that the best presents are "from the heart". That was do-able.

The only person who would appreciate a photo album of flawed perfection, though, would be Teddy. None of the others would really get it, because they were all part of the happy family. James was a Weasley through and through in looks, but he was never really one of them. He was never one of _anyone_. And Teddy was like that too. He was his own person.

So James had as good as made up his mind, and when he returned home he settled that for Teddy, he would compile an album of memories. Good memories, bad memories, downright embarrassing memories. Teddy would love it.

Still, that left the issue of what to get for everyone else.

James was still broke. That wasn't changing. But now he was inspired. He would make handmade presents for _everyone_! Personal, heartfelt, all that crap. Maybe, just _maybe_, it would get him back in the good books.

He might never be the perfect son, not really, but at least he could try to make up for the massive bomb-site that was his teenage years. Maybe they'd forgive him, just a bit.

xxx

James is eight, and it's snowing, and every eight-year-old loves the snow. But he's stuck inside, not allowed out just because he threw a snowball into Al's eye. Al is a wuss; it doesn't even sting a little bit. Al can't really do magic yet, and plus he's tiny, so James had the easy advantage. Apparently taking advantage of small people isn't nice.

James thought it was funny.

So he's just sitting there, glaring out the window at Al and Rosie playing with little Lily and Hugo. It's the first family gathering where James hasn't been allowed to play with the others. Even Viccy's out there, making a snow-lady with Lucy and Dom, and she doesn't even like getting messy. Fred and Roxy are chucking snowballs at each other, and it's vicious, and it's not fair that they get away with more than James ever has. He just wants to have fun.

It's not fair.

Teddy sits down next to James. He's holding a textbook, which seems silly, because why would you have a textbook with you at Christmas?

"Why aren't you out with the others?" Teddy asks.

"I chucked a snowball into Al's eye," James says sadly, "so I've got to stay inside now."

Teddy laughs. "Nice one. Bet you were aiming for his bum though, weren't you?"

"I was aiming for his head," James says. "But I didn't want to hurt him. Anyway it doesn't even hurt to get snow in your eye."

"Yeah," Teddy says with a shrug. "Your 'rents are a little harsh sometimes, aren't they?"

"They are!" James says, grateful that someone understands. "So why aren't you outside?"

"I don't want to get my Charms textbook wet," he says, which makes no sense to James, because he still doesn't get why Teddy has that textbook at Christmas.

"Okay," James says.

Molly Junior comes up to them, waving something about. "Hey you two! Smile for the camera!"

Teddy holds the textbook over his face and James pulls an ugly frown as Molly clicks and the flash goes off.

She glowers at them. "Uncool," she says.

"Is that Christmas present?" Teddy asks kindly.

Her face softens. "Yeah! Plus, it's _vintage_. The Ministry were getting rid of it, so daddy got it cheap. Isn't it cool?" She holds it out for them to see.

"It's very cool," Teddy agrees.

"Can I keep the photo?" James asks. "Seeing as it's _uncool_. You don't want it, do you?"

"I guess not," Molly says with a shrug. "I'll get it to you once it's developed."

xxx

James had managed to re-create the scene perfectly. He was quite the artist, if he may say so himself. And shit, that macaroni. It had gotten bloody _everywhere_. He'd done it the old-school way, and it looked amazing, but it did result in glue. Everywhere.

How had Albus managed?

After the hardest afternoon of work that he'd done in Merlin-knows-how-long, James had created a childhood memory for Albus out of macaroni.

Albus, the cheeky fucker, took one look at it and burst out laughing. All of James's hard work just for a laugh, and that's it.

"Merlin, James, I knew you were broke, but this is something else!"

"I'll have you know that macaroni is quite expensive these days!" he said, mentally chastising himself for talking like his uncle Percy. Inflexion and all. As Molly might say - "uncool!"

Al just kept laughing. "I mean, what exactly is going on here? Is it meant to say something? Or is it just some macaroni dumped on glue?"

How. Offensive.

"It's us! When we were kids! Don't you remember? I threw a snowball into your eye at Christmas when you were six, and mum and dad made me stay inside for the rest of the day."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I remember, you giant twat. But why would you make _that_ scene, of _all_ the family Christmases, into this fine... work of art... ?"

James shrugged. "I thought it was a sort of fun family memory, you know?"

"I don't find it _fun_ at all," Albus said stiffly. "You were _bullying_ me."

With an exaggerated sigh and a roll of the eyes, James put his palms up defensively. "Fine! I don't care what you think of it. I tried, at least I can say that."

Al'd stopped listening.

xxx

It was always meant to be so nice to come home for the Christmas holiday. You got to sleep in the warmth of your own bed, as opposed to your dingy Hogwarts dorm, and you saw your family and settled in for a season of love and presents.

Which is precisely why James hated it.

His third year, if it was possible, had been even worse than the last. He'd been in so much trouble, you can't even imagine, and his grades weren't as good as they'd once been.

But the icing on the cake had been his prank at the beginning of the year.

"Our Teddy! Snogging our Victoire!"

It was meant to be funny. Merlin, everyone knew Teddy and Viccy were like brother and sister, and plus anyone who knew anything could have worked out that Teddy liked boys. AS IF they would be snogging. But no-one seemed very fazed when James let them know, almost like they'd been expecting it, which was stupid, because two people being close doesn't mean that they want to slip each other the tongue.

James had just wanted to take attention away from Albus on his first day.

But now he was a "compulisve liar" and "out to break up friendships". That was rubbish, the lot of it, but no-one had looked at him the same way since. Kids who lied couldn't be trusted, and James was a liar now, on top of being a troublemaker.

It was the first Christmas where he'd just wanted to stay at school, where at least the teachers believed his excuses - usually because they were so wild that they simply _couldn't_ be fabrications, but let's not go there.

So he's sitting in the corner while everyone crowds around the table eating Grandma Molly's famous snacks, and playing with his dad's old camera, just sort of taking photos of random objects and trying to get the lighting right.

Teddy taps him on the shoulder. "Cake?"

"Can't," James says stubbornly, "I'm much too busy being the official family photographer."

"Bull," Teddy says, taking the camera from James and forcing a slice of cake into his hands. "You haven't eaten anything all day."

"I don't want to eat their food," James says. He doesn't mean for it to come out that way but it does, and Teddy gives him a knowing look.

Lily runs up. "James! You haven't touched your cake. Can I... ?"

He doesn't wait for her to finish her sentence before handing it to her. "Sure thing," he says with a false grin. Teddy shakes his head and walks off. With the camera.

She bounces up happily and takes it. "Hey James," she says, whispering conspiratorially, "guess what I just saw?"

"What?" he asks.

"Our Teddy! Snogging our Victoire!"

She bursts out laughing at the offended look on James's face.

"Gotcha!" She takes the cake and disappears back into the family crowd.

Teddy returns, still holding the camera, and takes a photo of the glower on James's face. "May this expression," he says, "come back to haunt you when you are older and wiser, and remind you never to be a grumpy bastard ever again. It really doesn't suit."

xxx

James stayed up late all of Christmas Eve with Grandma Molly's recipe book. He was pretty sure that the exact cake was a lemon tart with clotted cream icing, and he was pretty sure that it was a bitch of a recipe that not even the most accomplished House Elf could pull off with such panache as Grandma Molly had done.

He tasted a piece just to make sure that it was fit for human consumption.

It was shit.

But too late to back out now.

"What've you got me, then?" Lily asked, turning the concealed cake-tin around, inspecting it.

James stuck out a hand and steadied it. "Don't! You can't move it around too much - it's delicate."

Lily giggled. "Okay! Is it alive?"

"It might be," he said. (And seriously, it was hard to tell.)

"Hmm." She wripped apart the wrapping unceremoniously and lifted the lid on the cake tin. "... did you buy me cake?"

"Nope! I _made_ it!" James said proudly.

She looked at him like he was madder than a Cornish Pixie, which was probably a fair enough judgement. James certainly thought he'd been mad to even set foot in the kitchen.

"What type of cake is it?" she asked, taking pains to be nice.

"It's Grandma's lemon tart," he said. "I remember you used to love it when you were a kid, so I thought I'd get into the whole nostalgia thing that's so en vogue these days."

Now she really did laugh, louder than Al had laughed at the macaroni art. "Oh lord, James. I used to _hate_ this cake!"

"But- but you took my slice from me at Christmas one year! I thought you loved it!"

"I was probably taking it to feed the gnomes, you idiot!" She laughed again. "Well, I guess they'll be having an early lunch this year, by the looks of your cooking skills, or lack thereof..."

Idiot was right. Now James really _did_ feel stupid.

xxx

James had been through some _terrible_ Christmases. But this one by far is worse than any before it. He's sitting at the dining table across from his mother and father, his head in his hands.

"What were you thinking, son?"

He wants to tell his dad that he wasn't thinking, that was the whole point of getting blind drunk. He was so angry at them all, he just wanted to forget everything.

"This whole..." - his mother gestures in his vague direction, - "... this whole escapade was by far the worst mess you've ever gotten yourself into."

James actually thought that it was pretty fucking funny.

But then, no-one's parents really thought that dressing up in women's clothes and coating oneself in glitter, going out and getting pissed with Muggles, sleeping with a boy and contracting a sexually transmitted infection was the best pastime for a sixteen-year-old, much less the son of the top Auror at the Ministry.

Oops.

"What were you _thinking_?" his father asks again, this time more sternly.

James pulls a sort of sheepish expressions. He's finding it quite difficult to lie to them, because he'd had one hell of a good time. It had been the best Christmas eve ever. He suppresses the growing feeling of guilt that maybe he'd actually done something quite terrible. Why should he have to feel bad for having fun?

"SAY SOMETHING!"

James flinches, and for a fleeting second he realises that it must have hurt his parents so much, to see their son like this.

But that was what he wanted, wasn't it? He wanted to punish them. They'd messed him up - now they were seeing the consequences.

Suddenly his mother's face takes on a much more caring tone. She reaches across and wipes some of the glitter from his eye. "It must be hard for you," she says. "How are your genitalia feeling?"

James resists the overwhelming urge to laugh. "Much better," he says, digging his long silver fingernails into his palms. "I think the antidote is working already."

"Good," Ginny says. "No son of mine will be stuck with genital herpes on Christmas day."

James allows himself a smile. Sometimes his mum was so matter-of-fact about these things, one could not help but smile.

"We'll get you help," his father says. "We'll find someone for you to talk to about your problems, and we'll fix you up."

Now James is angry. "Don't you understand, dad? I don't want to be fixed up! I'm happy how I am, even if I'm no good to you!"

"This isn't about the crossdressing," his father snaps, "I couldn't care less what you wear or who you see in your spare time. But unprotected sex with a Muggle? Binge drinking? That's out of line, James! In all your years of doing stupid things, this is by far the most stupid. This was downright _idiotic_!"

James has never been angrier in his life. It's early morning, and usually people don't like to be disturbed on Christmas morning, but quite frankly James doesn't have any fucks left to give, and so he stands up, there in the kitchen, and Apparates straight into Teddy's flat. Teddy is sitting on the couch, reading _the Daily Prophet_ and drinking what looks like a fantastically warm cup of tea.

Teddy sees him and grins. "Look at you, all dressed up and nowhere to go! How was your night out?"

James bursts into tears.

Teddy walks up and puts his arms around James, just letting him cry. "I take it not so good then," he states.

James nods into Teddy's shoulder. "I got herpes," he mumbles.

And Teddy almost laughs. "Merlin, James. How'd that happen?"

"Shagged a Muggle," he says, brightening up a bit. "No, Ted, it was great fun, it really was. Apart from the herpes. And, you know, mum and dad finding out and tearing me a new one before suggesting that I need psychiatric help."

"Oh," Teddy says, letting go of James. "Well I think what you need, young man, is a good cup of tea."

He goes into the kitchen, but comes out not with a cup of tea but a camera. "Will you indulge me?" he asks. "I'd love a couple of photos of you in that amazing outfit before you go back home."

"Not going home," James says, but he laughs and smiles. He wipes his eyes and dislodges a flurry of glitter in the process.

Teddy takes a few quick snaps, and then goes to the kitchen to get tea. James follows him.

"Thanks," he says.

xxx

James was most nervous when it came to his parents. Al and Lily hated his presents, although they were far too merciful to say so outright. But to really get back in the family circle, his parents were the final barrier to be crossed.

His father looked at the box curiously. "And what's in here?" his mother asked. She's always been a bit easier on James, possibly because he's her spitting image in all but debilitating short-sightedness.

"It's the reason for all these cuts on my fingers," he said, holding out his hands for his family to see the scars of his labours.

"It's not a razor blade, is it?" Lily joked. But Ginny glared at her, and she immediately silenced herself.

Harry opened the box, and inside were five dolls, made of odd bits of fabric, with old socks as the stuffing, and poorly stitched. They were a bit strange and lumpy, but they're clearly the Potter family. There's Harry, in his Auror cloak, and with a lightning scar drawn on with mascara (although he doesn't need to know that James still owns mascara). Ginny, with miles and miles of glorious red hair. There's Lily, all smiles and freckles, and an Albus doll, the miniature of the Harry one. And finally the James doll - long ginger hair like his mother's, glasses like his father's, and covered in glitter.

Lily and Al were laughing again, and James had noticed an alarming trend of their laughing at his presents. But at least he'd brought them each a few smiles, if not a decent present.

Ginny smiled warmly at the dolls. "James! You made these yourself! I have to say, I'm very impressed."

His father didn't seem so impressed. He was eyeing the James doll in particular with some trepidation. Perhaps he was still scarred by memories of his son head-to-toe in glitter.

It wasn't the best reaction - he wasn't the perfect son. But he felt that maybe he was one step closer.

xxx

It's amazing. It's the best Christmas ever. James is out with Teddy, in a London nightclub, and it's everything he could ever have wanted. No family, no rules. Just him and Teddy and a crowd of people they don't know and don't want to know, all of them glittering or flashing neon, with warpaint on their faces and mad looks in their eyes.

It's a Muggle club, and they're approached by a guy with a digital camera. He seems to know Teddy, because they give each other a thumbs up as a way of communicating over the tangible bass line.

"CAN I GET A PICTURE?" the guy shouts, waving a glowstick in their faces.

"SURE THING," Teddy yells back, and he grabs James and shoves their mouths together.

James doesn't notice when they stop kissing, but the guy with the camera has already disappeared. He presses himself close to Teddy and grins like he's on drugs. "Let's go back to yours," he says.

Teddy gives him two thumbs up.

Best Christmas ever.

xxx

Later in the day, well after lunch was finished and everyone was standing around chatting, James and Teddy had defected to a more quiet part of the house.

The photo album was one present James _knew_ would go down well.

Teddy was held rapt by it, like he was reading a really interesting textbook or something. He was thinking aloud as he turned the pages, not giving James a chance to interrupt.

"Oh god, that's from when you were eight, wasn't it? The snowball thing. That was hilarious. And the grumpy James face! I took that one, didn't I? Oh god, look at this. Look at us! We look like right idiots in all of these. Especially you in all that bloody glitter. Merlin, James. I mean, it's just a bit hilarious."

And on the last page was, in James's opinion, the greatest photo of the lot. It was the Muggle one of the two of them kissing in the nightclub. Teddy touched the corner of the photo, smiling fondly.

"Best Christmas ever, right?" James said.

Teddy gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's see if we can make this one even better."

Really, James thought, as they Apparated to Teddy's flat, there was no point in spending Christmas with family. No point in trying to get back in the good books with macaroni, baking or dollmaking. He may be the world's worst Weasley, and condemned to never being a true Potter, but perhaps one day he could be a Lupin.

* * *

><p>Reviews are love! Late Christmas presents, even. So go on then! I'm guaranteed to reply.<p> 


End file.
